


Does It Matter?

by rosweldrmr



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Max Evans Has Issues, Michael Guerin has a tragic backstory, Pain, Physical Abuse, Soulmate-Referred Pain, Telepathic Bond, Whump, light character criticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:59:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosweldrmr/pseuds/rosweldrmr
Summary: “How is it you keep on survivin?” Hank slurs. The broken shards of a bottle in one hand, Michael looks down at his torn shirt and grimaces.“It’s not me you’re hurting, you piece of shit!” He lunges for the broken bottle and easily tears it out of Hank’s drunken grip.--Or the one where soulmates feel each other's pain, and Michael has more than his fair share of it.





	Does It Matter?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akafinndameron (elleelizabethx)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleelizabethx/gifts).



> Written for the [2018 Roswell Gift Exchange](http://roswell-gift-exchange.tumblr.com/). (Psst why don't you join us for next year).
> 
>  
> 
> For my dear Lisa. Sorry it isn't a Stardust AU, but it is one of the very few AU things that I love - soulmates. Sorry if this is a tad bit darker than you usually like. But given Michael's childhood trauma, it just made for a sad start. But hopefully you will still enjoy it. I luff you and I'm glad that I get to be your gifter this year.
> 
>  
> 
> Please note, there is some light Max Evans character criticism done within the context of the narrative. If you love Max, you might not enjoy that part. he's not a villain or anything, but he definitely doesn't always make good choices.

Liz grows up in pain.

She is constantly in and out of the ER. Broken ribs and arm, dislocated shoulder, fractured wrists… if it can bruise or break she’s been treated for it. Black eyes, broken nose, concussions, fractured clavicle, bruised liver, ruptured spleen… and most (if not all) of her injuries are a result of blunt force trauma.

Someone is beating her to death.

But it isn’t her family, or teachers, or even bullies. She is held for observation 13 different times, but the doctors always concluded the same thing. Her injuries were parapsychic sympathetic referred pain: PSRP. More commonly known as Soulmate Pain. One of the worst cases they’ve ever seen.

Liz isn’t the one being hit, but she is the one who feels it. No one ever lays a finger on her, but it’s her bones that break.

There are periods where things seem to get better. She can go months without an attack, sometimes. But it always comes back, usually worse than before.

It gets to a point where Liz has to be accompanied to school by a nurse, just in case.

She doesn’t really understand her it, until she gets a little older. She knows no one is actually hitting her. She knows it’s someone else who’s being hurt. She also knows they probably have no idea who she is. But things like that didn’t really help when she wakes up screaming in agony in the middle of the night.

Gasping for breath, begging for it to stop.

“Why!?” she remembers asking her mother when she was 12 and had to be hospitalized for three months. “Why doesn’t he stop it?”

“He doesn’t know, sweetie,” her mom tells her.

And she tries to believe it, to give him the benefit of the doubt. But there is only so much compassion she can spare when she’s laying in traction for half of her school year.

She’s on a whole cocktail of drugs, aimed at stopping the soulmate bond. But those only really work when she was incapacitated. Currently, there’s just aren’t any drugs that allow her to function while blocking him.

\--

“What is it?” Maria asks suddenly, and Liz just glances up from her homework - confused.

“What’s what?” she asks, glancing around the library, expecting to see something out of the ordinary. But all she can see are other people studying.

“You’re bleeding,” Maria points out, and Liz groans.

“Not now! I have an essay due tomorrow,” she complains.

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” Maria scoffs, almost offended that Liz could care about school at a time like this.

“It’s not that bad,” Liz reassures her, wiping the blood of her lip. “I think it’s just a normal--”

And whatever she was about to say is lost as all the air in her lungs is forcibly expelled from her body.

“Liz!” Maria screams, but Liz can barely focus on her. The pain that blooms in her side is so intense, she longs for unconsciousness. There is a blinding, shooting, stabbing pain the pierces her side. She can _feel_ the blade slice through her skin, nick her rib, and puncture her lung.

_This is it_ , she thinks just before she blacks out. _She is going to die_.

\--

“How is it you keep on survivin?” Hank slurs. The broken shards of a bottle in one hand, Michael looks down at his torn shirt and grimaces.

“It’s not me you’re hurting, you piece of shit!” He lunges for the broken bottle and easily tears it out of Hank’s drunken grip.

“Michael?” Isabel shouts from outside the trailer.

“Go!” He says, obliterating the glass by fusing it with the shag carpet with his powers.

“How bad?” She asks, and he can hear the panic in her voice.

“Stab to the right lung. She’ll need an ambulance.”

“Who’s that you’re talking to?” Hank asks, stumbling towards the door. “Is that my Izzy?” Hank leers.

“She’s not yours,” Max says, creeping out of dark hallway behind him. He takes Hank by the hair and pulls his neck far enough back to give him whiplash.

“Oh ho,” Hank chuckles, as if he doesn’t even feel it. “If it isn’t lil Maxie, come to give me another ‘talk’. Sorry boy, but you don’t scare me.” He grunts as he tries, and fails, to pull his head out of Max’s hold. “Now be a good little bitch and fetch me that sister of yours. I think _she likes me_.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Michael grinds out, his fists balled so tightly that his arms shake. “Let him go, Max. I can’t do this anymore. He’s gonna kill her one of these days.”

“Michael, stop. You can’t,” Max reminds him. He’s good at that - reminding Michael why he can’t do a lot of things.

He can’t fight back, because he’ll risk the authorities’ attention. He can’t report Hank, because there’s no evidence without revealing Liz. He can’t fucking melt him into the carpet like a goddamn candle because the FBI will be the next one’s to knock on the trailer door. He can’t tell Liz who he is without risking her finding out _what_ he is. “She’s gonna die,” Michael says, and the way his voice cracks, he knows he’s on the verge of tears.

\--

When he was younger, he thought he was invincible. Back when the state thought he had severe learning disabilities, back when he couldn’t speak or read or really understand anything. Back when he was crammed into a group home for special needs kids that no one gave a shit about. Back when the other kids would beat him up - he thought he was invulnerable. So, he acted the way any 7 year old who thinks they can’t be hurt would when faced with bigger, mean kids. He acted out. He started fights, determined to prove that he was bigger and badder than anyone else.

It was a matter of survival.

And no matter how bad the fight got, no matter what they threw at him - he always came out without a scratch. It wasn’t until his social worker was able to glean the gist of his behaviour problems that anyone really tried to explain what was happening.

But by then, it was too late. By then, he’d adapted enough to leave the relative safety of group care and ended up being dropped into a seemingly endless string of foster homes. Each with their own kind of nightmares. He tried his best, at first, every time. But after years of fighting, it’s what he knew best. Almost like he was born to fight. Like it was instinct. Even when he honestly didn’t want to - he found that his anger usually got the better of him.

And the fact that nothing hurt - it made him reckless.

Even after he was placed with Hank. Even after drunken, late-night beatings became the usual. Even after he reunited with Max and Isabel - it was like a cycle he couldn’t stop. Or maybe, he didn’t have proper motivation to _make_ it stop was more accurate.

Max had warned him too. He’d told him horror stories about a girl he went to elementary school with who suffered from Soulmate Pain worse than anyone he’d ever seen.

\--

“I’ve seen it,” Max tells him. “It happened in class once. We were just sitting there, doing lab, and then all of a sudden she was bleeding and crying and her arm--” Max gags at the memory. “It was… mangled.”

“Yeah, okay. I hear you Max. ‘Be careful.’ I got it. Loud and clear,” Michael mockingly says, more focused on finishing the next level of the video game Max’s parents have just gotten him than really listening.

“I’m serious Michael. When we were in elementary school, she had to have a chaperon take her to classes because she had so many attacks.”

“Uh hu,” Michael says, distracted.

“Hey!” Max snaps, yanking the controller out of Michael’s hands.

“What the hell, man?” Michael barks, grabbing for the controller.

“You’re not listening. She almost died! All because her asshole soulmate keeps letting someone else use her as a punching bag.”

“Jesus, I get it, okay? I’ll be _careful_ ,” Michael shakes his head, like it’s some great inconvenience to avoid a fight.

“You’re not a superhero,” Max reminds him. He must have told Michael the same thing at least a hundred times.

“Yeah, I know. Just an alien,” Michael jokes and snactches the controller back. “If it bugs you so much, why don’t you just find the guy that keeps getting her hurt and stop him? Maybe then she’d be so grateful, the two of you can be together,” Michael mocks him. He knows Max likes this girl. He never stops talking about her. _Liz this_ and _Liz that_. Michael swore if he ever did get to meet this Liz girl, he would make sure to clue her in about Max’s _enormous_ crush.

“It’s not like that,” Max says.

“Sure it isn’t. I totally believe you.”

\--

It seemed like a lifetime ago, mocking Max about liking the girl with the asshole soulmate. But really, it was only a year ago. It wasn’t until halfway through their freshman year that Michael was finally able to transfer into the same high school as Max and Isabel.

When he was finally able to put two and two together.

At first, he was surprised Max didn’t figure it out first. He always seemed to keep such a close eye on her.

It took Michael even longer to realize that Max _had_ figured it out.

\--

“You knew!?” Michael screams, throwing the folder he’s holding on Max’s bedroom floor, sending papers flying everywhere.

They are hospital records. Liz’s hospital records, going back a decade. All carefully annotated with dates and times that correspond to altercations Michael is all too familiar with.

“I-- I thought maybe I was wrong.” Max tries to explain.

“So last year, when you had to _drag_ Hank off me, did you know then?” Michael accuses, crowding Max’s personal space.

“Yes,” he admits.

“And Isabel? Does she know too?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me about it?”

“I tried to warn you--”

“Don’t!” Michael cuts him off. “Don’t give me that bullshit,” he pauses for a second to count something on his fingers, then looks back up at Max. And the way Max visibly recoils makes Michael even more irrationally angry. “Three words, Maxwell. Three words was all you needed to say. But no! No! Because you’re a fucking coward!”

“I’m no--”

“Yes you fucking are! You didn’t _want_ it to be true so you convinced yourself that _maybe_ it wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe you and her could still be together. Jesus, Max, how delusional… how fucking selfish do you have to be to fuck this up so badly? She could have died! And all you had to do was say three goddamn words!” Michael realizes that he’s screaming so loud, their neighbors can probably hear every word he’s saying.

“I told you to be careful! I told you what you were doing was hurting someone,” Max screams right back, and Michael hates him. He hates him for a lot of reasons right now, but he really fucking hates Max because _he knows he’s right_.

“But you didn’t tell me it was _her_! All you had to say was ‘She’s,” Michael says, holding up one finger. “Your,” he says, keeping direct eye contact with Max. “Soulmate!” He holds up the last finger, shaking his hand in the air. “See, Maxwell, it’s not that hard!”

“You knew it was someone!” Max argues and Michael has to consciously control his anger before he does something stupid - like punch something, or someone.

“I didn’t know it was her,” he seethes.

“Why does that matter?” Max asks, and there it is. The root of the issue. Why does it matter who it is?

“It matters,” is all Michael can bring himself to say.

“Why?” Max says, leaning in. And Michael takes great effort to take a deep breath and control the urge to pummel something.

“Because,” Michael says, through gritted teeth, “of who she is.”

“To you,” Max appends, and Michael throws his hands up in defeat.

“Fine!” he shouts. “Fine, you want me to say it. Fine. Yes. It matters because she’s my--” But he can’t bring himself to say it. His voice cuts off, as it saying it would somehow make it even _more_ true. Like maybe admitting it outloud could somehow trigger Liz to hear it. Which, Michael realizes, is the absolute worst outcome be can possibly think of.

“Say it,” Max says - and Michael can really see it now - that hate in his eyes. The resentment. Max has always loved Liz. And he’s always hated her deadbeat soulmate.

It’s only right this second that Michael understands what that means.

Max hates him.

“I-- I--” Michael stutters, taking a step back. As if proximity could make the blow of it lessen. “I’m sorry,” he finally shutters before he runs from Max’s room.

\--

He tries to be careful after that. So, so careful. He asks Isabel for help… and later (when they managed to move past it - or more likely agree to cooperate for Liz’s sake), he asks Max too.

And together, they do their best to keep Michael out of trouble.

\--

Liz enters her sophomore year more optimistic that she has in… forever. She hasn’t suffered a single attack in more than 8 months. Which is _unheard_ of.

“Do you think he knows?” Maria asks, nibbling on her sandwich on day at lunch.

“Knows what?” Alex asks from the other side of the table, looking over some sheet music.

“That Liz is his soulmate,” Maria says, like it’s obvious. But they weren’t even talking about this a second ago. Sometimes Liz wonders how her mind works.

“Why do you think that?” Liz asks.

“Because, he’s not letting himself get hurt anymore,” Maria points out.

“Or maybe he’s just safer?” Liz guesses. That’s what she thinks, anyway.

“Safer?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, you know, like not in a bad situation anymore.”

“Liz, you can’t honestly believe that all those injuries were… what? Abuse? Who would stay in a situation like that for so long? No, he just didn’t care. He gets into fights because he knows it won’t hurt him, and he’s too selfish to--”

“Maria!” Liz snaps. She hates when she gets like this. She understand that it comes from a place of love. But she also can’t bring herself to believe that her soulmate could really be that cruel.

“Fine,” Maria sulks. “Whatever.” She goes back to eating her lunch, but secretly Liz has always worried that maybe she was right. What if he really just didn’t care?

\--

Michael crashes at Max and Isabel’s as much as their parents will allow it. But whenever he does have to go back to the trailer he’s careful to keep an eye out for Hank.

But really, it’s just a matter of time…

\--

“Where you been hiding, boy?” Hank demands, lumbering out of the dark. He’d clearly been waiting a while, lying it wait to catch Michael.

“What’s it to you?” Michael just shrugs him off and tries to sneak past him to his room. If he can just get inside, he’s sure Hank will pass out soon. He’s already three sheets to the wind.

“I gotta know where you are,” he explains, and Michael can’t help it. He laughs. “Something funny?” Hank asks, his voice doing deep, the way it does when he passes the ‘happy drunk’ stage and descends into ‘full on bastard’ mode.

“No,” Michael says immediately, trying to defuse the situation before it gets out of hand. “Sir,” he adds, in hopes that it’ll help. “No sir.”

“You mocking me?” he says, reaching for the ashtray on the table. Luckily he misses. As he bindly grabs for it, Michael slips past him - headed back for the door. “Hey!” Hank shouts, once he realizes Michael is trying to escape. “That social _well_ fair lady says you gotta be home next time she visits or they gonna stop my checks.” And the way he slurs ‘wellfair’ makes it almost sound like ‘warfair’.

“I’ll be here,” Michael promises, holding his hands up, trying to be as non confrontational as he can.

“How’m I supposed to believe you? You ain’t been home in…” Hank draws up short, as if he’s actually trying to calculate when the last time he saw Michael was in his head. “... A real long time. Real long,” he nods to himself.

“I’ll be here. I swear to god. Just let me know when and I’ll come--”

“It’s a surprise, ya idiot!” Hank yells, and the way he tips forward a little makes Michael’s gut lurch. He’s only seen Hank this drunk a few times.

The worst times.

“I’ll just stay in my room, okay? I promise. I’ll be quiet and you won’t even know I’m there. But I’ll wait for the next visitation--”

“You think I’m some kind of moron? The second you close that door, you’re out the window! I know, I know all your little tricks, you ungrateful little leech!” He reaches for the half-drunk bottle of whiskey on the table, and Michael barely has enough reflex to jump back, out of the way, before the bottle is being sung at him.

It just barely clips his nose, barely enough enough to feel it. But Michael already knows - this will mean a bloody nose.

“Hank, please, you gotta stop,” Michael pleads. But, as always, it only seems to further his rage. He doesn’t know for sure, but Michael has always assumed that Hank resented him for having a soulmate, when his died. Sometimes he’s certain that’s why Hank comes after him with the ferocity he does, when he knows it won’t hurt Michael. He doesn’t want to kill Michael. He wants to kill his soulmate. “Please,” Michael tries, one last time.

“Michael?” Isabel calls from outside the trailer. And in the second it takes to tilts his head to the side to make sure it’s Isabel, Hank takes the opportunity to shatter the bottle in his hand and jam it into Michael’s side.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, you know that,” he mumbles, his mouth right next to Michael’s ear, as he holds the shiv in Michael’s side. He’s so close, Michael can feel the heat of his hand on his shoulder, the smell of liquor is overwhelming. Finally, he manages to pull free. And god knows what kind of damage that’s done. “How is it you keep on survivin?” Hank slurs.

“It’s not me you’re hurting, you piece of shit!”

\--

Maria cries in the ambulance. She always cries. Liz feels bad. But at least the pain has stopped. Thank god for anesthetics. They weren’t really sure how they worked, even for surgeries, but they also had the added benefit of being able to cut off the link between soulmates. Of course, that didn’t stop the damage that’d already happened.

“Felt like… stabbed,” Liz mumbles from under her oxygen mask. The lights in the ambulance make Maria look like an angel.

“You were!” She sobs and Liz thinks it’s weird. How the brain works. She wasn’t physically stabbed. But the link between her and her soulmate is so intense, that it could actually trick her body into believing that she had been stabbed. The brain was a terrifying place. Capable of destroying its own body’s cells, because it could feel it in someone else. It could tear skin, and shatter bones.

“Brain… weird,” she tries to explain to Maria, but she feels sick. And before she can warn anyone, she throws up blood all over herself and the EMT next to her.

“Sorry,” she mumbles before she passes out again.

\--

“She’s gonna die,” Michael says, his voice cracking. “And it’s my fault.”

“That doesn’t mean we can kill him,” Max says, and Michael’s not sure he agrees.

Not tonight.

“Then make him disappear,” Michael finally growls. “Wipe is memory, cripple him, launch him into low earth orbit. Just get him away from me. I never want to see his face again, you got that, Max?”

“Yeah,” Max nods, still holding the struggling Hank. “Yeah man. I got it.”

“And do me a favor,” Michael says, grabbing his jacket from off the floor.

“What?” Max asks, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“Burn this place down.”

And then he leaves, but not before he catches the horrified look on Max’s face. But he doesn’t understand, how could he? He’s only ever known the Evan’s home. He’s never had to live like Michael has. If he did, he wouldn’t have stopped Michael tonight.

Michael takes a few deep breaths once he gets outside. The stars are bright tonight. When had the sun set? He couldn’t even remember.

“How is she?” he asks, without turning around. He knows Isabel is waiting for him.

“She studies late on Thursdays in the library. I called for an ambulance, but it was already on the way. She must have been with one of her friends. I told them it looked like a stabbing.”

“Can you find her?”

“Michael--”

“Don’t, please. Just don’t. I know how it works. I know she has to be asleep. But… I--” he struggles to express it. “I can’t _feel_ her.” He knows Isabel doesn’t like using her dreamwalking on people she knows. It feels too much like an invasion. But he doesn’t know what else to do.

Even before he knew what a soulmate was, he felt _something_. A connection, or a link… it was like remembering a dream almost. On some level, he was always aware of her. He always had been. He didn’t understand it before. But this past year, going to school with her, being close to her, he could almost _feel_ their link, like a length of string, pulled tight between them. He’d gotten used to it, to that feeling of _someone else_. For a long time he convinced himself that it was Max and Isabel that he was feeling. But he knows now, it’s not them. It’s her.

And right now… he can’t feel anything from her. There’s just… nothing.

“It’s the drugs,” Isabel tells him, coming up to stand beside him next to the Jeep. “They give them to PSRP cases. It blocks the connection, so her body doesn’t cause any more damage.” To which he can only just look, slack jawed, at her. “What?” she quirks her eyebrow at him. “I know stuff.”

“I know you know stuff,” he says and he means it. He’s always known how smart she is. “I just wasn’t aware you knew _this_ stuff,” he explains.

“It seemed… prudent,” she says and despite the situation, he chuckles. “Where’s Max?” she finally asks.

“He’ll be a while. We should get going.”

“Go where?” she asks, jogging after him. He’s already set off in a familiar direction - into the desert.

“To put an end to this,” he says darkly. The desert is cold tonight.

\--

“You can’t be serious!” Isabel complains. She sits on an outcropping of rocks near the door to their pods. This is always where they come when they want to control their powers. Something about this time makes it easier.

“You’re not the only one who knows things,” Michael argues.

“What if it doesn’t work? What if something goes wrong. We have no idea what this will actually do!”

“It’ll work,” Michael says.

“How do you know?”

“Because it has to,” he reasons. And really - that’s all he’s got. Hope. And desperation. “It’s going to work because it has to. Because Liz doesn’t deserve this, any of this. It’s a mistake,” he tells her and he can see that at least part of what he’s saying strikes a chord with her. “We’re not even human,” he says - the final nail in the coffin. And he can see it - the exact moment he breaks her resolve. He knows Isabel struggles with her alien-ness just as much as he does. And he knows, without a doubt, if there is one sentiment that will drive the point home for her, it’s that. The fact that they don’t belong. Or… more than that. That they’re not _allowed_ to belong. They shouldn’t even be here.

But she’s also right. He has no way of know if this will work. It’s all just assumptions, guesses. And he knows she doesn’t want to be responsible if something goes wrong.

“I don’t even know what you want me to do,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

“Find the connection and shut it down,” he says to which she just sighs.

“What if something goes wrong?” she points out. “We should wait for Max.”

“The longer we wait--”

“We wait for Max,” she insists, and Michael knows better than to argue with her once she gets like this. She’s made up her mind.

So, they wait.

\--

“You want to what now?”

“Sever the connection,” Michael explains. “Or… reverse it.” That sounds a little more accurate.

“Reverse it?”

“Cancel it!” Michael tries again, he’s getting increasingly agitated the longer they wait. “Whatever it is that sends my pain to her - I want to shut it off. It’s my pain, I should feel it. Not her.”

“Is that even possible?” Max asks, skeptically.

“Theoretically,” Michael shrugs.

“You have no idea,” Isabel says, and Michael can see she’s even less happy with the idea now that they’ve waited an hour for Max to do… whatever it was that he did with Hank. They didn’t even have to tell him to meet them here, he just knew. And Michael thinks, he must have already guessed what he wants to do. “We don’t even know how soulmates work,” she argues.

“Brain Waves!” Michael shouts. “Magic brain waves.”

“Says the alien,” Isabel mumbles under her breath.

“Ah ha!” Michel exclaims. “Exactly! We’re not completely human. Max can heal, I can… melt things? And you,” he says, turning to Isabel. “You can manipulate brain waves.”

“We assume,” she points out.

“How else could you dreamwalk?” Michael says. “It’s brain waves. Which means, Isabel can stop this.”

“Do you really think so?” Max asks, and Michael can see it now - he’s almost convinced.

“Yes,” Michael say, unequivocally. “This will work.”

“He wants it to work!” Isabel says desperately. “And you,” she points at Max, “You’re just as bad as he is. You’re willing to risk his life - for her. You’re willing to risk me scrambling his brain, maybe even killing him! All for her. She not even your soulmate, Max!”

“You won’t kill him.”

“Oh my God! How can you possibly know that?”

“Because, we have a purpose here. We were sent to Earth for a reason. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is why we’re here, the three of us. Michael is the only one of us with a soulmate--”

“That we know of,” Isabel cut him off.

“That’s his reason. But what about you and me?” he asks, completely ignoring what she’s said. “You can stop it, and I can heal him.”

“This isn’t some story, Max. We aren’t here for a _reason_. We were _abandoned_. There is no purpose to life. It’s just messy and it hurts and we do our best, but that’s it.” Michael can see that she’s beginning to fray. “Please, Max.”

“You can do it,” Max says in response. “I know you can.” As if his belief in her could make it true.

“You could die!” Isabel cries, shaking her head, turning back to Michael.

“So could she,” Michael begs her. “Please, Is. Please, I can’t do this to her anymore. I can’t--” his voice breaks as a tear makes its way down his cheek. “I can’t bare it,” he admits. Because even for as much as they’ve all danced around it, even as much as he wishes it wasn’t true - Liz Parker _is_ his soulmate. She is connected to him in a way that defies logic. Even modern science can’t fully explain it. There are theories about quantum entanglement or alternate realities… but the truth is no one really knows for sure how or why soulmates are created or how their connections work.

And right now, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because somewhere Liz is bleeding and in pain and it’s his fault. He did this to her. And he can’t - he can’t _live_ with himself knowing that. And he thinks he understands now, the difference between love and soulmates. Max loves Liz. But Michael can’t bring himself to exists one more minute in this world where Liz has to suffer because of him.

He can’t do it.

He won’t.

“It’s what we’re meant to do,” Max says, finally.

Isabel groans, and Michael knows it’s because she’s given in. “Thank you,” he says, touching the back of her hand. Michael turns to thank Max too, for helping convince her, but he’s already walking away.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says quickly, because he knows she’s scared. And if something does go wrong, she’ll never forgive herself.

“Don’t, you don’t get absolve me,” she says solemnly. “And neither does he,” she says turning back to look at Max. “If this goes wrong, I will never forgive you. Either of you,” she says loud enough for Max to hear.

“You can do this,” he tells her, and he believes it. He really does.

“Whatever. Get ready,” she calls, and Michael climbs into the backseat of the Jeep. “This is going to hurt,” she warns.

“That’s the idea,” Michael nods.

“You’ve never felt pain before,” Max reminds him, and Michael tries not to let the ball in his stomach scare him.

“First time for everything,” he jokes.

But no one laughs.

\--

Liz is sitting in darkness.

She is alone, which is strange. She’s almost never alone. Not unless she’s really hurt…

“Oh,” she says, looking at her reflection in the black floor mirror.

She is no stranger to this void.

This is where she comes when the pain becomes unbearable. When things are so bad, she wishes she’d never been born.

That’s when they sedate her, cut her off. Which is how she ends up here.

She’s only ever alone when they’ve blocked him.

\--

“Close your eyes,” Isabel says, and Michael does as he’s told.

The last thing he sees are the stars.

He thinks, oddly, Liz would like them.

\--

Suddenly the dark around her shifts. It’s no longer black, but more like a dark blue. And all around her, the darkness is dotted with shimmering lights.

Stars, she realizes.

They’re everywhere.[1] Above, below, in between her toes, her ribs, her hair, caught on her lips, her fingertips, on the soles of her feet… it’s like nothing she’s ever known before[2]. She feels like she’s walking through the night sky. Like if she could just reach out, she could touch the stars.

Like she’s one of them.

“It suits you,” a voice says from somewhere in the darkness.

A voice she recognizes.

“Who’s there?” she asks, because there’s never been anyone else in the dark. He doesn’t respond, but Liz thinks she might understand who he is. “How are you here? I’m only ever alone when I’m here,” she says softly, swinging her arms in wide circles, trying to find him amongst the stars.

“I’ve got some help,” he says.

“What kind of help?”

“The kind that can stop this. Don’t you want the pain to end?”

“It’s not so bad… anymore. I guess I got used to it,” she says, shrugging.

\--

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, safe in his corner of the sky. He can see her, of course. She shines like the rest of the stars.

“Who are you?” she asks, and he tries to ignore how frantic she sounds.

“No one,” he answers. “No one important.”

\--

“Why did you do it?” she asks instead, because she feels like he’s slipping away. The stars are fading. “Why did you let them hurt you for so long?”

“I didn’t know,” he says softly. “I didn’t understand, at first. And then, when I did, it was too late. It was a habit. But that’s over now. I won’t let them hurt you ever again.”

But that doesn’t make sense… how could he… “Did you ever care about me?” she asks, and her heart breaks because she thinks this is the end. The only to end a connection is through death.

“More than I knew I could.”

\--

“Then stay,” she says, and Michael has to turn away. He’s already caused her so much pain. He fears this much more may break him.

“I can’t.”

“Please?”

“Liz,” Michael says and he can hear her weeping now.

“At least…” she cries, “tell me your name.”

“You already know it,” he says, coming up to stand behind her. God, how many hours had he imagined touching her? Standing this close to her? And it’s almost too much. It’s almost enough to make him regret it, giving her up.

“This isn’t fair,” she cries.

“In my experience, life rarely is.”

\--

“Will it hurt?” she asks, watching the stars fade back to black. Their connection is already unraveling.

“No, not this time.”

And Liz wants to be mad. She wants to be angry at him, for taking this choice from her. But she also remembers the pain. And a part of her is relieved. “Will it hurt you?”

“Would it matter?”

“Yes,” she answers truthfully.

“I have help for that too,” he says, and that doesn’t quite fit. It’s almost as if… like he knows how to cut the link without dying.

“Maybe--” she rushes to say, before he’s gone completely. “Maybe this won’t be the end. Maybe we can try again… without all this.” Because even if she doesn’t know who he is, she knows what he is. He is her soulmate. And even when that meant that she resented him, hated him, blamed him, at least she was never alone. He’s been with her since she can remember. A presence that she feels at all times. And even if she didn’t mean to, she can’t honestly say that she doesn’t care about him. She does… oh she does, she does, she does.

“Live your life, Liz. You don’t owe me anything.”

And through the darkness of the void, a memory comes back to her. It’s just a random memory… just a single, insignificant moment in her life - that shouldn’t have meant anything. But it comes rushing back back with enough force to knock her off balance.

\--

“Max Evans,” Maria hisses, gesturing as subtle as she can. “10 o’clock.”

“That’s 2 o’clock,” Liz corrects her.

He’s standing by his locker with his sister. Which is nothing new. But it’s not just the two of them today. Today, there’s another boy with them. He looks about the same age, but Liz doesn’t recognize him.

“Who’s that?” Maria asks.

“Don’t know,” Alex reponds. “Must be new.”

And Liz is overcome with a wave of vertigo. She feels like she’s tipping forward, and all around her, the hallway is roiling and undulating under her feet.

“You okay?” Maria asks, immediately at her side.

“Just dizzy,” she reassures them. She knows they worry about having attacks in school.

“Woah, is she okay?” she hears Max’s voice and groans. Great. Just what she needed. To look bad in front of Max, the one guy who doesn’t seem creeped out by her ‘condition’.

“Fine, I’m fine.” She says, trying to stand upright a little too quickly, to prove to them that she’s okay.

And down she goes, taking whoever is in front of her out in the process.

She expects her knees to hit the floor, but they don’t. Not really. Instead, she feels someone lying sort of under her, their legs are tangled together.

“Oh god!” Liz says, completely mortified. “I’m so sorry--” she looks up, expecting to see Max. But that’s not who she’s clinging to. It’s the new guy, who looks about as seasick as she feels.

“No, it’s fine. I--” but he doesn’t finish his thought. He just stares at her.

“You okay?” she asks after a few seconds, when it doesn’t look like he’s going to continue.

“Just… dizzy,” he says as he helps her stand. One hand is under her arm as he hauls her up. And when he pulls away, it almost feels like getting a static shock.

“No, it’s my fault. I’m such a klutz,” she laughs, and wishes more than anything that she could just disappear. She’s too embarrassed to function. And that’s before she realizes that he hurt his side. She sees him wince and shift, and she realizes she must have kneed him when they fell. “Oh no. I’m so sorry,” she reaches for his hands on his side, as if she’s going to examine his injury. But he pulls away so sharply, he teeters. “I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine,” he insists, and the more she apologizes, the angrier he seems to get.

“I feel really bad,” she tries to explain. “My family owns the diner in town, come by after school and give you a free order of fries.”

“No thanks,” he shakes his head.

“It’s no big deal. I just want to apologize. You’re new here anyway, lots of kids hang out--”

“I said no,” He snaps, and Liz finally shut up.

“Sorry. Again. Just… sorry,” she wants to tell him that she didn’t mean to offend him. But she’s worried that would make him more upset. And she’s already insulted him (somehow), embarrassed him, and injured him. She figures, that should be enough. It’s best just to leave him alone.

“Hey,” he says and the way he says it makes her look up. “You don’t owe me anything,” he finally says, once he’s satisfied that she’s paying attention.

“Ah, oh. Okay. Well, see you around?” She asks, taking a step back, finding Maria and Alex flanking her, gently trying to guide her away, before she can do anything else to embarrass herself.

At which point, she was literally saved by the bell. Realizing that she’s going to be late, she forgets that Max is watching, or even that she’s made complete fool of herself in front of the new guy - all she can think about is getting to class.

\--

“You don’t owe me anything,” Michael says, and it almost hurts - to let go of her like this. But no matter how much pain he’s in, he knows it will never compare to what he’s already put her through.

“You never came,” she says, turning in complete darkness now. The stars are gone. He can only tell because he feels her shift in his arms.

“Came where?”

“To the Crashdown, for your free fries.”

“I don’t do handouts,” he explains.

“It wasn’t a handout,” she tells him, and he can feel the palm of her hand sliding up his chest, and neck. Like she’s trying to map him out. And it’s only then that it occurs to him that _she must know who he is_. “It was just a hand,” she demonstrates by touching his face.

“Liz…” he says, panicking.

“Michael…” she says back. And he can almost _hear_ her smiling.

“It wasn’t personal,” he tells her.

“I know,” she says, and she feels closer than she did before. “It was self preservation.[3]” she says, like she knows. Like she’s seen his life for the disaster it is.

The pad of her thumb runs over his lower lip. And before he can pull away, or say anything, she surges up (on what must be her tiptoes) and kisses him.

\--

Liz wishes she could stay like this forever. Just the two of them. No pain, no distractions.

But she knows this can’t last. She understands why he came. He’s going to take away her pain. She doesn’t know how, exactly, but she’s certain that it involves cutting their connection.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says as she lowers herself down to stand flat.

Her hands fall through a cold mist, where only a second ago was his chest.

He is gone.

\--

Their connection is broken.

There is a jolt where it feels like Michael is snapped back to reality. And with it - pain.

Blinding, searing, tearing, horrible agony. He’s never felt anything like this before.

How did she endure it for so long? He can barely last a few seconds before he’s sobbing.

“Shhhhhh,” Isabel coos, and he feels something cold and wet against his forehead.

“You’re okay,” Max says, and Michael wants to scream at him.

How is this okay? He feels like he’s being torn apart, molecule by molecule.

“Almost over,” Isabel says, and Michael can’t be bothered to stick around and figure out what’s almost over. He chooses the darkness over the pain.

Achingly slowly, he descends into the void.

\--

Liz wakes up in the hospital to find that she has absolutely no pain. Maria tells her it’s been two days.

“I need to go.”

“Go? Go where? You’re in the hospital, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I’m not hurt anymore,” Liz points out.

“Yeah, about that…”

“He’s not dead,” she announces, throwing on the jeans and shirt by her bed.

“Liz - there’s no other way--”

“He broke it.”

“Broke what? Liz… Liz!” Maria calls after her as Liz runs down the hallway in her socks. “Broke what!?”

“The connection!”

\--

“Liz?” Max answers his door, looking like he could use about 10 more hours of sleep.

“Is he okay? Did it work? Did you help him?”

“What?”

“You and Isabel, it know it was you he was talking about,” she says, barging her way into his house. She didn’t realize that it as nearly 11:30 pm. “He said he had help. He said you could help with the pain. The connection is broken. So that means, he must have a stab wound.”

“Did,” Michael says from the hallway in the back of the house. He looks unsteady on his feet, and he’s holding his side, where he was stabbed.

“It worked?” she asks, and there is so much emotion in those two words, she feels like she choking on them. Is he okay? Is their connection gone? Is it over?

“Yeah,” he says and smiles. Just a small, crooked smile and fades slowly, like stars from sky at dawn.

And just like that… it isn’t the end.

This is just the beginning.

Even without a magical link between them, it doesn’t change who he is.

He’s her soulmate. And now that she’s finally found him, she has no intention of letting him go.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] <http://rosweldrmr.tumblr.com/post/155332753354>
> 
> [2] <http://rosweldrmr.tumblr.com/post/121618018673>
> 
> [3] <http://rosweldrmr.tumblr.com/post/135263990737>


End file.
